In this volume I shall give the reader an account of her pet dog, Tiney,
with anecdotes of other dogs.

Tiney was a spaniel. He had long, pendent ears, black, expressive
eyes, a short, well-rounded mouth, and long, silky hair. He was an
affectionate little fellow, who attached himself to every body in the
house. He was on the most friendly terms with Fidelle, often eating
sociably with her from the same plate. In summer, when Minnie liked to
play on the lawn, Tiney might be seen running here and there in
obedience to his young mistress, picking up a ball or stick, and
bringing it to her in his teeth.

If the truth must be told, Tiney was a dog that loved his own ease. In
the winter he liked to lie on the hearth rug in front of the glowing
fire, one eye partly open, to be sure that Fidelle, who was fond of
playing with his tail, committed no indignities with it.

Sometimes Minnie used to get out of patience with him for being so
sleepy; but her mother told her it was in consequence of his eating so
heartily, and taking no more exercise; and then the little girl would
drag him off out of doors, often sadly against his will, and entice him
into a frolic.

It was curious to see Tiney with Leo. The spaniel held the great dog in
awe, and never but once was known to go to the stable to see him.

The circumstances that led to this visit were very curious, and I must
relate them.

When Tiney first saw Leo, he was only a puppy, and I suppose was
frightened at the sight of so large a dog. He began to bark at him with
all his might. Mr. Lee wished to have them become friends; but this did
not appear so easy, for Leo, after looking disdainfully at the pup,
walked away with great dignity.

After this, whenever Tiney saw him, he began to bark, or rather to
growl; but Leo never took the least notice of him.

Tiney, however, was fond of running to the gate to see what dogs were
passing by. In this way, he formed many acquaintances, and some very bad
ones.

An express-man used to pass the house two or three times a week, and was
always accompanied by a large mastiff, a savage-looking dog, with a
deep bass voice.

One day, when the express-man's wagon was going by, Tiney began to jump
up before the horses' mouths and bark. The man spoke to the mastiff, who
at once flew at the spaniel, and shook him thoroughly.

Tiney cried out piteously, and walked back to the house a sadder if not
a wiser dog.

But he did not forget. On